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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24265141">cotton candy daydream</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye'>deltachye</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Free!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(shakes fist in air) kisumi the only valid free boy, Childhood Friends, College, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Fuckbuddies, High School, Reader-Insert, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, eventually, eventually lol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:14:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,090</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24265141</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>[reader x kisumi shigino]</p>
<p>skies aren't always blue when i think of you.</p>
<p>[dw]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Shigino Kisumi/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>93</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Gift Fics</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. raspberry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You two really were made for each other, huh?”</p><p>Your teacher laughed as she patted the two of you on the head endearingly. Guiltily glancing to the side, a blur of cotton candy swum in your vision.</p><p>“I’m s-sorry…”</p><p>“Ah, don’t be sorry. You just miss your mom, right? Don’t worry about it.” She knelt to peer into your face, her smile kind. “Lemme get you and Kisumi-kun some juice. Which do you want?”</p><p>Sniffling, you replied meekly with a tiny ‘raspberry, please’. Kisumi blew his nose into a tissue, his voice nasally.</p><p>“Same…”</p><p>“Gotcha’. Be right back.” She laughed to herself and got up, walking away to the staff room. You mopped your face with the sleeve of your dress before seeing something white encroach upon your vision.</p><p>“Tissue?” Kisumi offered shyly. Gratefully, you took one. </p><p>It was the first day of pre-k. Your mother was running late picking you up. Watching everybody else run into their parents’ arms after the bell while you were left alone made your child-sized brain jump to the worst possible conclusions, and you had burst out into an unstoppable tsunami of tears. That was embarrassing enough as is, but there had been another boy whose family was late picking him up. He’d had a similar reaction and the two of you were practically trying to out-cry each other before managing to calm down. Had you introduced yourself to him today? </p><p>“You’re Kisumi-kun, right?” you asked, gathering strength back into your voice.</p><p>“Huh? Oh, y-yeah…” He fiddled with the tissue box in his lap, staring down at it determinedly. “You’re [Name]-chan.”</p><p>“Yeah.” It was nice to be recognized and your heart fluttered in your chest. You felt much better with his company and felt a bit silly for bawling all over yourself; though you supposed you didn’t blame Kisumi for crying, so it’d be contradictory to feel bad about yourself, too. </p><p>“Do you want to play together tomorrow?” you asked bravely, suddenly riding the wave of courage that washed through you. He looked up, startled. You remembered him now—while you had been fighting with the other girls to play with the dolls, he had been lurking alone at the sand pit. He’d seemed kind of lonely. You’d wanted to go and talk to him then, but dolls were a hot commodity, so you couldn’t leave lest you lose the battle entirely. By the time you’d managed to get your hands on the prettiest ones—two: one for you and one for him, he had vanished off to somewhere. You felt like you needed to make amends for it.</p><p>“Really?” he asked hesitantly, sounding doubtful. You nodded. </p><p>“Yeah. We can play whatever you want. I don’t mind.” You stuck your finger out (after wiping it on your skirt, of course). “Pinky promise?”</p><p>It was the first time Kisumi looked at you fully, his lightly curly hair falling to the side so that you could stare deep into twin amethyst pools. The smile exploded across his face and he grabbed your outstretched hand with both of his own. The warmth enveloped you fully, but you froze, surprised by the sudden display of energy that he’d been hiding away.</p><p>“Okay—let’s do it!”</p><p>“My, you two get along well.” Your teacher had returned, grinning cheerfully. “Here—two raspberry juice pouches. Also, your parents called. They’ll be here in a couple of minutes. I’ll wait with you ‘till they’re here.”</p><p>“Thanks, Sensei!” Kisumi chirped. She looked taken aback.</p><p>“Cheered up, then, Kisumi-kun?”</p><p>“Yeah,” he continued, happily stabbing his straw through the pouch. “[Name]-chan said she’d play with me tomorrow.”</p><p>“Ah… that right?” Her lips curled as she glanced between the two of you. “Looks like the two of you are already good friends.”</p><p>“We’re going to be <i>best</i> friends,” Kisumi declared, giving you a look. “Right, [Name]-chan?”</p><p>It was a bit startling to have his personality pull a 180 on you so quickly, but you were glad. He’d seemed so distant at first, and that was a waste of a beautiful smile. You had a feeling you were seeing the real him. Relieved, you wiped the last of your tears from your lashes and beamed back. </p><p>“Yeah!”</p><p>The sweetness of that raspberry juice couldn’t compare to the way he made you feel.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. strawberry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You and Kisumi remained close friends all throughout the rest of pre-k and kindergarten, too. At Sano Elementary, he was one of few familiar faces during the entrance ceremony, and you found yourself instinctively clinging to him in the swarm of strangers.</p>
<p>“It’ll be okay,” he reassured as the two of you opened your lunches, sitting in the grass of the courtyard. Others were huddled in their own groups, but you weren’t too concerned, glad to have Kisumi’s company. “You’ll make new friends in no time.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I guess.” Everybody else that you’d grown attached to had gone to different elementary schools, but you supposed you were most glad to have Kisumi’s company out of all your friends. People had teased you for having a boy for a best friend, but you didn’t see what their problem was. He was just your best friend, and you were his. That was it. It seemed pretty simple… </p>
<p>(In retrospect, it only felt that way at the time, where everything’s simpler.)</p>
<p>“You too, Kisumi-kun. I bet you’ll be super popular.” Gone were the days of him lurking in lonely shadows; somewhere along the way he’d picked up this persona of irresistible charm. Girls and guys alike flocked to him, begging to chat with him in the halls or play basketball after school. He grew taller than you almost overnight. You’d gotten edged to the side without even knowing it. It felt like you’d suddenly been demoted to a background character. For a while, it almost seemed like he’d been faking his shyness, his sudden confidence so convincing that you must have just imagined it. You wondered: if you hadn’t met him early on, would you never have seen that side of him? Which was the real him? He didn’t seem keen on letting you know. Your chopsticks slowed in your hands. Were you even really his best friend the way he was yours…? </p>
<p>“Well, that’s okay. You shouldn’t look so down about it, [Name]-chan. It’s not like I’m going anywhere. We’re best friends, right?”</p>
<p>“Right,” you replied, but it was automatic. Kisumi picked up on the strain of your smile and tilted his head.</p>
<p>“How about this? Let’s give each other nicknames.”</p>
<p>“Nicknames?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. “What for?”</p>
<p>“Nicknames only we can call each other. Y’know, like spies!”</p>
<p>“Well…” It was a little lame, but you liked the idea. You could have something special between the two of you: private, almost sacred. “I have to think about it. Everybody already calls you ‘Kiss me’.”</p>
<p>“I have an idea for you already. Do you want to hear?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” You couldn’t help but lean in. Like a trained master of drama, he spread out his arms and puffed out his chest.</p>
<p>“Princess!”</p>
<p>The declaration was surprising. “You want to call me Princess?”</p>
<p>“So I can be your one and only Prince Charming. Duh.”</p>
<p>You couldn’t help but laugh, all the angst of earlier worries lifting from your chest. Kisumi pouted at you, planting his palms in the grass and sulking away from you. </p>
<p>“What? You don’t like it?”</p>
<p>“No, I like it,” you insisted, catching your breath. “I’ll call you Prince.”</p>
<p>“Really?” He looked taken aback by his own words. </p>
<p>“Is something wrong with that?”</p>
<p>“No, I just… didn’t think you’d actually say yes. Do you actually like ‘Princess’? Is it really okay?”</p>
<p>“Hm…” You gave it some thought, but it was pretty much a no-brainer. He could call you anything and you’d be happy—but <i>princess</i>? Now that made you feel <i>special</i>. “Yes. I’m your princess, milord.”</p>
<p>“Ha.” He beamed, self-satisfied. “Now we just need a dragon to save you from!”</p>
<p>“I don’t need saving!” you argued. “But maybe if we see another bug or something, you can rescue me.”</p>
<p>He grinned and reached out, taking your outstretched hand. With utmost delicacy he laid a trained kiss upon your fingers, the warmth spreading down your arm to your heart like inferno blazes. </p>
<p>“As you wish, milady.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You’re in eighth grade when Kisumi gets his first real girlfriend.</p>
<p>He’s always had girls hanging off his arms, declaring their love and other nonsense throughout the years. You could’ve been jealous, maybe, but it just meant that more free chocolate was getting diverted to you around Valentine’s. Still, it’s not like it’s unfathomable as to why so many people like him. He’s good at basketball, pretty looking, and nice to everybody he talks to. But still… you’d never thought he’d ever make it official with somebody. That always seemed like a problem for tomorrow,but now it’s hit you square in the face.</p>
<p>You didn’t even know who she was, startled when he suddenly brought her around at lunch. Being in the same homeroom as him meant that you often spent time with him and his friends, the boys, whenever your own friends were busy with club activities. It was easy enough to get along with his usual circle, but <i>this</i> girl? You’d just learnt the word “bitch” last Friday, and she was one of them.</p>
<p>“Your friends are so boring,” she whisper-shouted into his ear, rolling her eyes. You dutifully pretended like you hadn’t heard it, but who didn’t? Makoto awkwardly shuffled in his seat, lowering his eyes, and you felt a painful twinge of resentment on the poor guy’s behalf. He’d let anybody walk over him without a word. You wanted to stand up for him—you really did. But you kept your mouth shut, because as unfortunate as it was, this was Kisumi’s girlfriend, and it wasn’t like you could badmouth her right to his face.</p>
<p>“They’re just quiet people,” he placated cheerfully. Asahi wasn’t here to defend himself from that, but Kisumi steamrolled on, always the mediator. “Anyways, let me try some of the sweets you made for me.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah. Open wide, babe!”</p>
<p>The sing-songy voice made you sick. Her cookies hardly even looked good, half-raw and half-burnt, but Kisumi didn’t even flinch as he swallowed and grinned.</p>
<p>“Ah, that’s the stuff. Thanks, honey.”</p>
<p>Why were you even sitting here? Not only were you third wheeling Makoto and Haru, you had to third wheel your best friend and his stupid bimbo girlfriend, too. Your stomach was turning, but the social anxiety of getting up and declaring you were out just to go nowhere in particular kept you reluctantly glued to your seat. </p>
<p>She <i>was</i> pretty, you had to admit. She had pretty brown hair, curled sweetly to match with doey eyes. Apparently she’d cheered him on at his basketball games, and that was how they met. Shovelling rice into your mouth, you wondered if things would be different if you’d had the time to go. Actually, no. That was just an excuse. You were pretty much free for all of his games. He didn’t exactly lay out his schedule or anything, but he’d passingly mention that he had a home game tonight or something like that. You could’ve easily swung by. But sitting in the stands by yourself just to watch Kisumi play a sport you weren’t interested in seemed sort of awkward. Now that you’re sitting here watching him fawn over somebody that’s not, well, <i>you</i>... should you have just bit the bullet?</p>
<p>“Let’s go,” she whined all of the sudden, and you realized she was dragging Kisumi out of his seat. “The bell’s gonna ring soon and we never got to have smoochies.”</p>
<p>“Right, yeah…” He stumbled out of his seat and flashed you an apologetic smile. You didn’t know what kind of face you should make back. A smile like <i>go get ‘er, tiger</i>? Something calmer? No—all of them would be fake, anyways, so you hastily looked away instead. You don’t mean to be unsupportive or cold, because despite it all, he’s still your best friend. </p>
<p>That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.</p>
<p>It’s only a few weeks later that he shows up on your doorstep like a puppy lost in the rain. He’s got a bag of snacks from the corner store, holding it up with a weary expression. It’s an olive branch. Silently, you take it.</p>
<p>“Things’ve really changed, huh?” he mused as he popped the ball into his ramune, the clatter chiming with insect noises in the early evening symphony. You can sense that the conversation’s going to be a lot heavier than circle geometry. You sat back onto the bench and listened wordlessly, allowing him to formulate the thoughts that seem to be running boundlessly in his head. </p>
<p>“Uh, so. Atsuko and I broke up.” He sounded painfully awkward, the way he used to when he used to cry over being left at daycare. The street lights flickered on, reflected as dots of amber fireflies in his amethyst eyes. </p>
<p>“Sorry,” you replied, cringing at how flat you sounded. “That sucks.” It wasn’t very soothing, you knew, but the sudden bud of relief in your stomach that you couldn’t squash? What were you meant to do with that?</p>
<p>“It’s okay. It’s kind of a relief.” He exhaled shakily and you realized that he’d been bottling a lot up. You kicked yourself for not being there for him the way you should’ve, held back by pettiness and self-loathing.</p>
<p>“I’m glad you’re happier,” you tried to reassure, measuring your words so that you didn’t sound like you were completely trashing his ex. “Are you okay?”</p>
<p>“Uh… yeah, I’ll be okay. But hey, Princess?”</p>
<p>The sudden use of your old nickname nearly made you choke on your chips and you looked at him, wondering what could’ve brought it on. He was already staring back at you, still looking like he was struggling internally. The forlorn, confused expression made your heart ache.</p>
<p>“What?” you prompted breathlessly when he didn’t continue. </p>
<p>“Don’t you want to know why we broke up?”</p>
<p>“Um…” Kind of, yes. You were dying to know, but: “it’s none of my business, really.”</p>
<p>“I need to tell you,” he murmured, uncharacteristically fidgety. Your hair was standing up on end.</p>
<p>“Okay…?”</p>
<p>“It’s because she was jealous of you and me.” He kept rotating the glass bottle on his knee, refusing to meet your eyes. </p>
<p>“Oh.” You let the words sink in. “I’m… sorry. I didn’t realize.” As an afterthought you stammered out, “but I mean, there’s nothing going on between us, right? So...” <i>You could just go back to her and pretend nothing ever happened, right?</i> Yet you lacked the courage to say it out loud, a part of you hoping that if you didn’t put it into the air, it wouldn’t ever happen. Memories of him looking at her, holding her close, flooded your eyes with hot, painful pricks. It didn’t even have to be her. Anybody but you—your heart shattered.</p>
<p>“Yeah. There’s nothing going on between us...” </p>
<p>His hand finally slipped from his drink and laid over yours all of the sudden, cool and slick with condensation. You jumped and stared at him, only to see him leaning in. It was the last thing you saw.</p>
<p>Your first kiss tastes of blueberry ramune.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. blackberry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You held your v-card—the kind that’s also pink and frilly but not quite of saints and cupids—with something like stubborn dignity. You can’t help it. It’s kind of a special thing, isn’t it? Your ‘first’. The pathway to womanhood. Your body is a temple, they say. Sacred. It should be respected with candles and silk sheets and rose petals and the whole shebang.</p><p>So, y’know, giving it away in the boys’ locker rooms wasn’t really in the plan. </p><p>Kisumi’s tongue lapped hotly in your mouth, and you can only sit there blankly, wondering what the hell to do. It’s all moved very quickly. Ever since that kiss on the cusp of your last year in junior high, Kisumi’s dragged you through this whirlwind of emotions that you’ve only been able to grit your teeth and brace yourself through. It’s not that you don’t love him—you’ve wanted this for as long as you could remember. But he’s always <i>go, go, go</i>, and now you’re in the first year of high school, and it’s like you haven’t ever had a moment to enjoy things. Your butterflies got left behind in hibernation. Maybe once you’d just like to <i>stop</i> and feel what it’s like to be in love. Real love. Not just the kind that you display when Kisumi hauls you around on a pedestal to showcase you as his girlfriend. </p><p>But he’s undoing your uniform in a cramped space that smells like ass and all you can do is let him. </p><p>His teeth sunk into your neck and you flinched with the pain. Is this good? Does this feel good? Maybe—um, but are you just imagining it because you want it to? Your head whirls and you’re not even sure if you’re supposed to be thinking this hard. </p><p>“Wh-what if somebody walks in?” you stammered out, placing your palm on his chest to secure some distance. His pansy purple eyes were darker than you remembered, giving you a chill when he cocked his head at you.</p><p>“Then we’ll just have to keep quiet.”</p><p>Everything’s <i>right</i>, you guess. There isn’t anything wrong about this. He’s flirty and attractive and you like him, a lot, but something about you feels like pulling back. Saying something. But you can’t find the words. His hands wandered up your bare stomach and you shivered reflexively. The bolus of dread grows bigger and bigger, weighing you down like cement shoes in water, until finally—</p><p>“[Name]?”</p><p>He pulled back slowly, scanning your face. Embarrassed by the sudden eye contact you weren’t expecting, you looked away, biting your bottom lip to manage your expression. You don’t have time to think up an excuse when he says calmly,</p><p>“You don’t want this, do you?”</p><p>The question cut you deeply. It’s what you’ve been asking yourself ever since he dragged you back here, but now that he’s said it out loud, your first instinct is to tense up.</p><p>“No, I do.” Even to you, it sounds fake. </p><p>“You don’t have to lie to me.” Gently, he backed up, loosely cradling your arms at the elbows instead of caging you up against the lockers. It finally allowed you to breathe. Your heart rate settled. That’s right. It’s Kisumi; he’s the guy you’ve known before you’ve known anything at all. If you couldn’t tell him, then who was he?</p><p>“I… not yet.” You winced after admitting it, so guilty you almost felt sick, but then you felt his hands squeeze you lightly.</p><p>“Sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to push you. I just couldn’t help myself.”</p><p>“No, <i>I’m</i> sorry. It’s just… you’ve been with others before, so I have no idea what I’m doing, and it…” You felt like a dumb kid muttering to yourself and shut your mouth. But you felt him reach forwards and cup your cheek in his warm hand, so gentle it’s almost like he wasn’t just trying to screw you into the filthy bench a second ago. </p><p>“You’re perfect the way you are. I’ll wait as long as you need.” </p><p>His smile is so charming it almost makes you want to cry. Relief? Thankfulness? Happiness? It doesn’t even matter. You’re just glad. He handed you your shirt and pulled a strand of hair over the reddening mark on your neck before asking, “you okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, thanks.”</p><p>His hand winds around yours and the two of you duck back outside. But as you walk, you’re a little further behind him, his long legs quickening his stride. And he doesn’t look back at you, just tugging on your fingertips to make sure you’re not left behind. But you wonder what would happen if you just… let go. Would he even stop for you? It hurts to think about, but it’s <i>all</i> you can think about. How much longer is it going to be like this? He’s him, you’re you—are you just holding him back?</p><p>It’s not just this kind of intimacy. It feels like everything’s been shattered out of disarray. As his friend you used to understand everything about him. Now it’s like he’s an entirely different person. You don’t know why he’s all clingy one day, why he’s “busy with the guys” the next. He flies from person to person like he can’t find a place to rest even though he’s sinking. And when you ask him if he’s just being superficial to be liked, worrying, <i>caring</i> about him, he asks you something in return that hurts you so badly you can’t even face him the next day. It’s like you’ve completely lost your friend. This “boyfriend” of yours is somebody you hardly know, and you miss <i>your</i> Kisumi Shiguno. The one you don’t hesitate to talk to and laugh with. The one you grew up with—<i>this</i> Kisumi isn’t right. You <i>know</i> it’s not right because you can’t even bring yourself to tell him. </p><p>But, as always, your better half reads your mind.</p><p>“Hey, [Name],” he says one day, smiling in a way where you can hardly tell if it’s real or not. “D’you think we should take a break?”</p><p>
  <i>Didn’t you say you’d wait as long as I need?</i>
</p><p>“Yeah,” you replied cheerfully, your stomach collapsing into knots. “Yeah, maybe.”</p><p>Breaks imply that there will be resumption. It’s just a little time off for healing. The both of you get the chance to grow. From cocoons emerge butterflies, right? Maybe you’ll get your butterflies back. The fuzzy feeling in your heart when he looks at you; holds you. You want them back. </p><p>His new girlfriend’s so loud you can hear them even just standing outside the locker room. (“Then we’ll just have to keep quiet”—whatever happened to that?) Blackberry vines grow around your heart, shattering you and pulling you apart. Suspended as a broken monument of what’s past, you walk away. They say your high school years are the best of your life.</p><p>They’re big fat fucking liars.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>Do you believe in fate?</i>
</p><p>Maybe yes, maybe no. All you know for sure is that there’s got to be <i>something</i> out there fucking with you when the person picking your head out of a grimy toilet bowl is none other than your ex.</p><p>You didn’t know anybody at the party besides your beloved roommates, but you’d lost track of them some five or so shots ago. You’re not a party animal by any means. You’d only come reluctantly, tugged along by the girls. But a part of you really wanted to be something more. Just this once, you had wanted to pretend to be more interesting than you really were. </p><p>So what the hell is this? Karma? Divine intervention? Punishment, or a cruel idea of a joke?</p><p>“I’m gonna…” You gagged, eyes rolling. “Leggo of me, Kishumi.”</p><p>“Nice to see you again too, [Name]-chan.”</p><p>He was braiding your hair as you suspended yourself back over the porcelain crevice. You didn’t have the mental capacity to count on one hand anymore, but you could feel his fingers deftly weaving through your straightener-burnt hair. He didn’t even say anything to explain himself or close the absence that had been left by your separation. He just quietly offered his presence.</p><p>Tokyo’s a big place, so how did he just <i>randomly</i> end up here, especially after all this time? But it’s him, no mistaking it—nobody else has that cotton candy hair, or those sparkling purple eyes—and nobody else on this motherfucking goddamned planet makes you feel the way he does just by being <i>close</i>. </p><p>In the end it doesn’t even matter. With your consciousness phasing in and out between spiderweb threads, you’re just shamelessly happy he’s back. Is that too much to ask?</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>---</p>
</div>He’s a good fuck, honestly. It’s kind of surprising. Maybe it’s the flavour of childhood friends or the spice of estranged ex-lovers, but you just can’t get enough of him. It’s almost violent, these little excursions, and you’re always left wobbly and bruised. It’s a bit pathetic, isn’t it? To hold the hickies on your chest with the same reverence you do with wax-sealed love letters?<p>You and Kisumi establish some boundaries—well, it’s mainly you. Insurance. You don’t like to make the same mistakes twice. </p><p>1. No kissing. Kissing implies there’s a relationship. There is no relationship.<br/>
2. Never in a bed. Beds are too close to the real thing. You’ll bend over a dumpster before you sidle up to this snake of a man in bed.<br/>
3. Don’t catch feelings. (But you never told him this one.)</p><p>It works out fine for a while. He goes to a Tokyo university far out from yours. When you want to hook up, he’s a couple train transfers away—not so far that you can’t get your fill when you need it, but not so convenient you’re tempted to keep crawling back like flies to honey traps. </p><p>You’ve changed, you hope. He’s changed too. You hardly remember the days when he was so shy he’d cry at the drop of a hat. When your hands run over sculpted musculature you wonder what the younger version of yourself would think of you know. Would she be proud?</p><p>You know <i>you’re</i> not, but quite frankly, it’s all you have. So you just bite the bullet and bear it.</p><p>At the end of the first semester you <i>finally</i> agree to his pestering to go out for lunch. In a way, you cover for yourself by explaining that you just want him to leave you alone. But you know that’s not the whole truth. (Funny how people mirror each other, right?) He reassures you by saying it’s not a date because lunch is the least romantic meal. The café you meet him in is sleek, and you can sit there and pretend that you’re just here as friends. But your feet brush against his leg, and his fingertips tantalizing slip past your arm, and it’s like you have to actively fight the magnetic resonance pulling your bodies together. For the first time in a long time, you talk like old friends. Everything and nothing flows so easily with him again. You feel like you got him back, the way you find old treasure in the back of your drawers. It’s all you wanted…</p><p>…but it’s not. Because now you want <i>more</i>.</p><p>You’ve convinced yourself that he’s not right for you, or you’re not right for him. Both on the days where you have to hide your phone from yourself so that you don’t text him. It didn’t work out before, so what makes you think it’s going to go any better this time around? You’ve finally got some footing with Kisumi again, so what the fuck are you thinking, trying to jeopardize it all over again? Maybe you’re just bored, projecting scattered emotions onto him so you can pretend you’ve got your shit together. Maybe you actually kinda sorta like him again.</p><p>(Maybe you never stopped.)</p><p>You feel it, and with horror, you think he does too. Because when you moan his name now, you mean it; when he grips your thighs, he means it. And when you open your eyes, you’re buried in his sheets and pillows, the smell of him so powerful and familiar around you that you almost cry your eyes out. That means it’s over. How many of your rules have you even broken? You kick him off of you, scrambling to find your clothes, but then he grabs your wrist—</p><p>“I don’t want you to leave.”</p><p>He sounds so raw, so <i>real</i> that it stops you in your tracks. Kisumi doesn’t sound like himself. You half-expect him to smirk and say <i>just kidding</i> in that intolerably sappy voice, but he doesn’t. He just stares at you mournfully.</p><p>“I want to be able to take you to bed,” he continues when you’re silent, leaning into you. Your muscles tense, and you know you should leave, but something locks you in place. Encouraged, he takes his fingers—they’re so long now. When did he grow this much?—and places them against your chin. You shiver at the touch.</p><p>“I want to be able to kiss you. I want to be able to show you that I love you. Can’t we try again? …Princess?”</p><p>It makes your heart sink and soar. You’re torn to shreds by this guy. He’s two-faced and smiles with poison, but you lap it up like diamonds of nectar off a rose thorn. You can’t stand him. How could you let a man hurt you like this all over again? Hadn’t he done enough? After everything, how could you just open your heart back up to him?</p><p>It’s because… you love him too.</p><p>“Yay!” he cries out when you mutter it under your breath, embarrassed to have to admit it like this, still half-dressed and raggedy while in the middle of a difficult chemistry study session. Kisumi sweeps you up into his arms and buries his face into your neck, hiding his expression. You almost tell him to stop before he whispers, so quietly you almost miss it, “I missed you.”</p><p>“We’ve been seeing each other for months.”</p><p>“I know, but…” Finally, he looks up, eyes locking with yours. It feels like your heart’s stalling in your chest when he smiles. It’s not just for show; he really, truly means it this time. You even recognize it. It’s the one he had all those years ago. </p><p>“I missed <i>us</i>.” </p><p>“I did, too.” The tears are welling in your eyes now. It’s a little embarrassing to be crying over something like this, but you just can’t help it.</p><p>Right person, wrong time. It doesn’t sound feasible. Who would you be if you didn’t have him? You’d never thought it possible to be so deeply rooted with a person—to depend on, rely on, and be so wholly connected to another soul. Even in those short few years apart, you yearned for him. You missed him the way the moon will always miss the sun. Is this what it means to have a soulmate?</p><p>Even if those don’t exist, it’s okay. Because you love him, and he loves you. </p><p>
  <i>Yes. I’d like to believe.</i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>deltachye.tumblr.com</p></blockquote></div></div>
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